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By some miracle, I manage to shake off the tingling of my body at his brooding presence and remember my entirely justified outrage.
I mean, I am in the wrong. I know that. It’s way past eleven and I should have checked the time, but it’s hard to be sorry when the person being mad at you is going about it in such an assholey way.
“Callsecurity? Are you serious?”
“There’s no loud music allowed in this building after ten o’clock,” he says.
“It’s Friday night.”
“And?”
“See, I thought you were only uptight when it comes to your precious car,” I begin as the angles of his face harden a little. “Turns out you’ve got a stick up your assindoorsas well. You’d seriously have called security on your neighbor?”
“I’ve never had to do it before, but my neighbors have always shown me basic human courtesy.” The bite to his tone makes me steam inside. “Maybe calling security is the only way to teach certain types of people a lesson.”
Yep, steam definitely coming out of my ears…
“Or maybe…” His eyes form tight slits as his body tilts forwards a little, the proximity of him making me feel like I’m caught in some bubble. “I wanted to see if you were capable of controlling that attitude of yours when I said it.”
The most sinful smile tugs at those perfectly carved pink lips of his as my cheeks begin to betray me by flushing hot.
Before I can muster up something pithy to throw at him, he speaks again, the timber of his voice rich and very deep, the notes borderline devilish.
“What’s your name?”
“How about you tell me yours first?” I bite back.
“Greyson Everitt,” he replies sternly as my hormones do a happy dance at the way his name rolls off his lips. “Yours?”
I lift my chin defiantly. “I don’t think it’s necessary for you to know it.”
“I’m sure Carrie and Tom will confirm it to me,” he replies so smoothly that it unnerves me.
I fidget a little, wondering how well he knows them.
I shrug. “I mean… if you’ve got nothing better to do with your time, I suppose you could find out.”
The devilish gleam in his eyes glitters. “Well, I’ll be leaving you. Make sure to keep the music down, unless… you want me knocking on your door again tonight. In which case, by all means, keep it up.”
I find myself gulping audibly before I collect myself and decide to glare back at him in lieu of saying goodbye.
He smiles, heading back to the apartment, his eyes catching mine before he closes the door.
I follow suit, taking a second to breathe, wondering if, in my drunken state, I conjured up that entire weird conversation.
I head back to the living room to find Frannie grinning and Rami scowling her lack of amusement.
I realize the music is now off completely, presumably so that Fran could eavesdrop.
“Did you hear that?”
“Um, yeah,” sings Fran, enthusiastic supporter of me getting laid again by a guy other than Kohl, the man I’ve very casually been dating in the last three months, my first attempt at intimate contact with a member of the male species since my ex decided to turn my life into a living hell for leaving him about eight months ago.
While Kohl is a breath of fresh air compared to him, Fran isn’t exactly a fan of his, seeing as he can be a bit overbearing, and because I told her that I don’t feel much pleasure with him.
Since then, whenever she spots any man who looks like he’s capable of giving a woman an orgasm, she forces me to talk to him.
“Can you believe that guy?” I huff, plonking myself down on the plush taupe rug beneath the coffee table that I’ll be tidying up first thing tomorrow morning, hangover willing. “First he berates me about my cycling, then he knocks on my door and tells me he was going to call freaking security.”
